A Mistake Turned Beautiful
by jackandjill2
Summary: Erik and Christine made a mistake the night of Don Juan... but something beautiful comes from it.
1. Prolougue

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Hi everyone!

I just wanted to let you know... I realized, after I started this story, that it is a lot like Susan Kay's novel _Phantom of Manhattan. _**I hereby state that I have NEVER read her book, and I actually got the idea for this story in a dream. Dead serious. **So, no flames, okay? I really like how this story is turning out!!!

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_The night of Don Juan Triumphant was both an ending and a beginning. We all know the ending, but what began during the time that Madame Giry showed Raoul the way and he escaped from one of the hundreds of trap doors…?_

...

"…no kind word from anyone! No compassion anywhere! Christine… why?!" Erik sang as he looked into Christine's eyes in front of the mannequin.

"WHY?!" he shouted.

She simply stood silent.

The Phantom shook his head. He wrapped his arm around Christine so she wouldn't get away, then for the first time, began to undress the mannequin. When he finished, Erik shoved the dress at Christine and not-so-gently pushed her to the room with the swan-bed so she could change. Eager to get away for a bit, Christine walked to the room, still silent as a mouse. Erik left her alone for a while, but then he looked at the Christine-replica in her undergarments and suddenly realized that the REAL Christine was undressing in his own lair!

He smiled maniacally, and stalked up to her room.

Christine didn't notice his footsteps, too deeply absorbed in her own thoughts. But she did notice him standing in the archway. She let out a shriek and tried to cover herself with her hands. Erik boldly walked into the room, wrapped his arms around her body seductively, and began to undo the ties of her corset.

"Erik - no - please!"

"Christine…" he cooed into her ear, stopping for a moment. "Christine…Christine…"

She stopped resisting. A tear rolled down her cheek. Of her own free will, and with trembling hands, she began to undo the buttons on Erik's shirt.

...

After that fateful night, Raoul and Christine thought they would never see their Opera Ghost again. They married, and soon discovered that Christine was pregnant. She didn't have the heart or the reason to tell Raoul about what happened between her and Erik.

...

But it couldn't have been the end, because otherwise I wouldn't be writing this story, would I?

...

A scream from the de Chagny mansion pierced the night. And another. And another.

It was baby time!

Christine, Raoul, and 2 midwives were all in the bedroom, the latter scurrying about, getting ready for the baby to be born. Raoul winced as Christine squeezed his hand so tightly, her nails poked through his skin, and a single drop of blood seeped through. The beads of sweat on her forehead had turned to nearly buckets pouring down her back and frizzing her hair.

Skipping the gross part…

A midwife finally took hold of the child and proclaimed, "It's a gir… oh my Lord!"

"What?!" Christine and Raoul shrieked in unison. The woman all but tossed the baby girl to Christine. A horribly familiar deformity cover the right side of her little girl's face: the eyelid drooped, and angry red patches ran from her forehead to underneath her cheekbone, which protruded out slightly.

"Oh no… no!" Christine cried.

"Christine, it's okay, we'll go see a doctor immediately in the morning." Raoul comforted. He still had no idea!

...

The doctor examined the girl as Christine and Raoul sat nervously for the verdict. The doctor looked at the couple, then back at the baby, and muttered, "That's odd…"

"What?" Christine said.

"Well, believe it or not, I have seen this before. While as yet incurable and quite rare, this particular deformity tends to be more hereditary than otherwise. But neither of you have any of this…" he trailed off, fearing the worst.

"Madame de Chagny… have you ever in your lifetime, slept with another man?"

Both of them paled. Raoul turned to her and softly said her name.

She couldn't meet his eyes. "Oh no…" she whispered. "Oh no… Erik…"

"NO!" Raoul nearly shouted. "You didn't!"

"I did… we did… he did…" Christine buried her face in her hands, ashamed.

"When?" Raoul squeaked.

"The night of Don Juan… he carried me off… I didn't know you would come… figured I should… get used to it…" her sentence was interrupted by her gasping for air in between sobs.

Raoul was dumbstruck, until he meekly turned to the doctor and said, "What can we do?"

"Well," the doctor said businesslike, "usually, if a baby is deformed, the parents choose to send it to an institution-"

Christine let out a huff and said, "My baby is not crazy! She's barely a day old!"

"What else can we do with it?" Raoul said to his wife. There was silence.

"My daughter is not an IT!" Christine hissed.

"Christine…" Raoul said warningly.

"No! We will keep and raise this baby, Raoul, and you will never again call her IT!"

"What should I call her, then?" he said sarcastically.

"Simone. You will call her Simone de Chagny!" Simone, Christine thought, taking back her baby. The perfect name for the Phantom's daughter.

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Well, there it is. I'll update again soon! Reviews are MUCH apprieciated!!!!


	2. Sixteen Years Later

Hi all! Thanks for the excellent reviews!!!

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Sixteen years passed. In that time, Simone never really felt like she belonged in her family - except for her mother. It didn't help at all that she was not allowed to call the head of house "Father", but to call him Raoul all the time. She wore a flesh-colored mask over her deformed features in public, but at home she preferred the white one - no scratchy paint over it. Simone was never told the identity of her real father, in fear she might try to find a man who could be either dead or halfway around the world. Raoul and Christine had a child of their own, a son with sandy brown hair and a perfect face that they named Joseph. For the most part, they all lived in peace, until the night Christine took out Erik's white mask (Meg Giry's ironic wedding present) and decided to tell Simone of her parentage.

...

"But… the Opera Ghost is just a myth!" Simone protested.

"No, dear. You, this mask, and my memory all proves that the ghost existed. But, Simone, he was not a ghost, nor a phantom. He was a man, called Erik. He was the one who taught me to sing… Erik, to me at least, was the Angel of Music."

"So, those stories you told me when I was little, and Joseph, are true?"

"Almost. I liked to exaggerate the stories to make them less realistic. For instance, Erik could not instantly grow white wings and take flight to heaven." Christine chuckled.

"What about Little Lotte? Was that you?" Simone asked.

"Yes. That was Raoul's nickname for me when we were children.

"You must be wondering why I never told you about him. It was because of your burning curiosity of everything in the world, and I feared you would try to find Erik. He could very well be dead for all I know. If, by chance, you did find him, there were only two options for this man. One, he would be dead, in which case you would be heartbroken; or two, he would keep you captive until I agreed to stay with him."

"That was what he was like?" Simone said.

"Well… I'll admit, the years he spent in isolation from the world made him go a little mad the last time I saw him. But for the most part, he was a genius. He was a composer, and a magician, and an architect - he redesigned parts of the Opera house to build his trapdoors."

"Why did he have to be isolated…" she looked at the mask Christine held. "Did he have this, too?" she said softly, pointing to her own bright white mask.

"Yes, he did. The day after you were born, Raoul and I brought you to a doctor. He said the deformity was hereditary."

Simone nodded, then froze. "Wait… does that mean I can't have children without giving them this thing?" she said, horrified.

"I don't know, darling. There's not enough study on it, but who knows? It might just be paternal."

They both heard a door suddenly swing open from downstairs. Distantly, Raoul's voice called out, "I'm home!"

Joseph ran past Simone's bedroom door. "Father's home early!" he cried out happily.

Christine said to herself, "He wasn't due home till tomorrow!"

While Raoul's business trips decreased as Joseph and Simone grew up, he still sometimes needed to spend three or four nights away from home to personally check out how his various businesses all over France were faring.

"Why is that a bad thing?" Simone asked. "Usually you're happy he's home early."

"Raoul doesn't like me thinking about Erik too much, it worries him." Christine replied.

Raoul started up the staircase, calling, "Christine! Simone! I'm home!"

"Simone, quick, hide the mask!" Christine said, nearly shoving it to her daughter. Christine then gathered up her skirts and rushed out of the room.

"Raoul!" she hear her mother say. "You're early!"

Simone looked around for a hiding place. Thinking quick, she threw aside a multitude of red, gold, and black pillows and placed the mask of the sheet before replacing the pillows.

Her mind was still racing with questions: Why did she have to hide the mask? Was her father still alive? Why didn't Raoul want her mother thinking of this 'Erik'?

Most of all, if the Phantom stories were true, and her own biological father had killed numbers of men, what would become of her?

* * *

Sorry for the tiny update. I'll update once a week usually around this time, so don't give up!

Also, from now on, my chapter titles will all be lines from the musical that fit the chapter. See if you can find the times the line fits!

Review, please!!!


	3. Look at Your Face in the Mirror

First of all, I would like to thank the reviewers for expressing their freedom of speech. I would also like to express mine, so here's another chapter. If you don't like it, you are quite welcome to read another story. I'm mainly writing this for my penpal - she likes the story. But, please, don't be a stranger! Read on, my fellow authors and authoresses! Read on!

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Her father pulled a lever and the metal gate rose out of the water. He still was clutching the lasso. Another hidden lever was pulled, and a current in the water caught the gondola, pulling it into the lair.

"No!" she yelled, and tried to push back the boat. The Phantom jumped into the water and grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the boat.

"STOP!" Simone cried out. "Don't kill me! Please! ERIK!"

He stopped and turned to her, his deformed face in a savage stare.

"How do you know my name?!" he spat. In one swift movement, he slipped the lasso around her neck, even while the hood of her cloak was still up.

"ANSWER ME!" he shouted in her face.

Simone screamed, then quickly pulled back the hood. Curly brown hair bounced out everywhere, and she could feel his eyes on her white mask. The savagery was gone. He let go of the lasso, still around her throat like a necklace, and stepped back in shock.

"No…!" he said.

"Yes. I am Christine's daughter." Simone said, breathing heavily. "And yours."

When he didn't respond, Simone pulled his own mask out of her cloak pocket.

"I think this is yours. Aunt Meg gave it to my mother." she said, handing it to him. Silently and slowly, he took the mask, but didn't put it on. Suddenly, he reached up and unmasked Simone. He needed to see her face, her deformity, to know she was related to him.

She had never let anyone besides herself reveal her face. She screamed again, and jumped back. The water was too deep for jumping back, though, and she lost her balance. She closed her eyes and waited to get soaked. There was a splash as Erik walked forward and caught the girl before she hit the surface, staying dry from the knees up. She opened her eyes. Simone and Erik were nearly nose to deformed nose. Their identical hazel eyes stared at each other kind of awkwardly.

"Thank you." Simone said as Erik helper her right herself.

They both walked to the dry floor, Erik pulling along the gondola and tying it up. Simone knelt by the edge of the floor and started wringing out the bottom part of her dress.

"Why are you here?" Erik said gruffly.

"I wanted to meet you, of course." Simone said plainly. "This… well, yesterday morning, I suppose, Mother decided I was old enough to know about you. I decided that I was capable enough to try to find you."

"Christine never told you about me?" he said. He was a little hurt by that - did he mean so little to Christine?

"Well, she did, sort of, by telling me stories of Little Lotte and the Angel of Music. They actually helped me figure out to come here."

She finished wringing her dress and looked around.

"You like candles." she noticed.

Erik smirked. "I have to, otherwise I'd be falling into the lake every time I wanted to play my organ."

Her eyes widened. "You really know music? You really did write Don Juan Triumphant!"

"Yes." he said. "I'm sure you play piano and such."

"Well…" Simone said, looking at the ground.

"What?"

"Actually, no. I want to, though. I want to learn music more than anything. Music is all that I hear! It's in the wind, brushing my rose bush's little buds together in harmony. Music is in the sunshine, glistening in the stream that flows like a lullaby behind my home…

"Music is everywhere… but I don't know how to play anything, except singing hymns along with Mother on Sundays, and my little nonsense melodies when I'm unoccupied."

"Why can't you?" Erik said, shocked. His AND Christine's own flesh and blood, not allowed to play music?!

"At home, they've shown a certain… reluctance."

"By they, you really mean-"

"Raoul? Yes." she finished cynically. "I suppose he doesn't want me to become too much like you."

She wandered over to the organ and lovingly caressed the white keys.

"It must be wonderful, being able to comprehend that beautiful art…" she trailed off wistfully.

Then, not unlike a ton of bricks, an idea hit her. Simone's eyes lit up and she slowly turned to Erik.

He caught the meaning before she uttered a single word.

"NO!" he shouted. "No, no, no!"

"Come now, who's better to teach me music than you, the Phantom of the Opera? The Angel of Music?"

"Anyone!" he cried. Erik started to walk away. Simone followed as he continued, "How would you practice? Where would I teach you?"

"Here! I'll come down here to learn. I'll figure out how to practice. Please, Father?"

Erik very un-phantom-ly tripped on a candelabra. Simone's calling him 'Father' had caught him off guard.

Simone saw a chance. She quickly knelt by him and took his hand beseechingly.

Erik looked up. Again, he was struck at how much he recognized her face - he remembered his own from in the mirror.

"Father," Simone whispered, begging.

_"Teach me your music of the night."_

She looked so pleading, and her deformity made her seem even more piteous.

"Three days. That will give you enough time to think of an excuse to come. The stroke of six o'clock. Warm up your voice by humming scales. I will teach you my music."

Tears flooded Simone's eyes. She flung her arms around his neck. A puff of air escaped Erik's lungs at the sudden impact.

"Thank you! I won't be late!"

He untangled her arms and helped her untie the gondola (after returning her mask) before she floated back to the corridor.

When she was gone, Erik ran his hand through his brown-blond hair. He had not had such an eventful day in nearly sixteen years.


	4. Down once moreActually chapter 3!

OMG!!!!! I totally skipped an important chapter! When you read "Her father pulled a lever..." you must've been like, "What?" So sorry! I'll fill it in now!

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That night, when she knew everyone was asleep, Simone reached under her pillows and found the Phantom's mask. It was nearly two in the morning. By candlelight, she examined it closer, comparing it to her own. All the bumps approximately matched, but his eyelid seemed to have drooped more than hers, and her cheekbone was more prominent. That is, if like her mask, he had shaped his covering on the inside to contour his face perfectly.

Simone wanted to see her father, dead or alive. She didn't care what her mother said.

But where could he be?

Simone thought hard, remembering her mother's old stories. The Angel of Music was associated with all that is nighttime. Where was it always night?

"Underground!" she said, after thinking a minute. "He might still be in the cellars of the Opera house!"

Simone decided that she would find her father's living place (she could bring herself to say lair). If he wasn't there, she would return home and not go looking again, as to please her mother. Simone crept out of bed, blew out the candle, and silently slipped off her nightgown. On came a light cotton midnight-blue dress, one of the few that didn't poof out and had minimal amounts of lace. As always (even more so in the dark) it was difficult to gather up all her thick, curly brown hair underneath the hood of her black traveling cloak. It was her mother's hair, except for a bit that was coarse and straggly where her hairline met the deformed side of her face.

All her years of sneaking up and down the stairs at night to steal a sweet or two finally became useful. She knew where every creak and screech the old stairs made were, and silently, she snuck out of the house and made her way to the old Opera house. Her father's mask, hidden in her cloak pocket, was like an emblem of security as she made the long walk to the famous conservatory of music.

The de Chagnys did not live close to the Opera Populaire. While their brand-new home was on the outskirts of Paris, the abandoned Opera was deep in the heart of downtown, nearly a mile away. So it was about three in the morning when Simone finally stood on the concrete steps to the Opera. There had been at least a dozen attempts to rebuild the Opera house in Simone's lifetime, but every one of them had examined the damage and gave up almost immediately. A few of the attempters claimed the ruins where still haunted by the Opera Ghost. Maybe it was true.

Christine used to bring Simone here and carefully showed her where her dressing room used to be, and the huge mirror still stood there.

Simone remembered her mother's stories:

"When it was time for Lotte to learn her singing, the Angel would sometimes help her walk through the mirror-glass…"

Simone thought, Maybe…

"This better work, or I'll have 7 years bad luck!" she hissed to herself as she picked up a huge, charred flower vase and chucked it at the mirror.

When it shattered to pieces, it immensely pleased Simone to find a secret passageway. In the distance, she saw a single candle amidst the darkness. To prepare herself, she found a barely-used candle and holder. She carried it with her as she braved the dark passageway, focusing on the single light in the darkness and the hope of seeing her real father….

Past the candle (her own now lit) it was a lot harder to not turn around and go home. She sang to herself, liking the echoes that kept her company.

She came upon twists and turns, and finally, a steep downward hill that resulted in a water corridor. Next to the solid floor was a dusty gondola, covered in cobwebs. Simone used the large stick to get rid of them.

Before climbing into the little boat, she thought, I wonder if anyone else at home is up yet…

...

Christine awoke and gazed sleepily at the ceiling to her and Raoul's bedroom. Christine felt an annoying urge to go to the bathroom. Rolling her eyes, she arose. On her way to the stairs, though, she noticed something was wrong. Simone never closed the door to her bedroom all the way unless she was changing or upset, even during the night.

So Christine peeked into the room, but of course, Simone wasn't there. Only a red rose with a black ribbon tied to it was laying on the bed.

Christine slowly picked it up. Shd didn't need to pee anymore (_AN: Don't think of it that way.)_

She was nearly hyperventilating with anxiety and shock as she ran back to the bedroom and aroused Raoul from his sleep.

"Raoul! Raoul!" she quietly yet urgently said, shaking him.

He awoke and sat up as if he were being attacked.

"Who - what? Christine?" he said groggily.

Christine held up the rose.

"Simone's gone!" she whispered, worry dripping from her words.

Raoul stood beside Christine and took the rose. His face turned red with anger.

"You told her, didn't you?" he said.

"I thought she was mature enough to accept the truth without going to find him!" Christine said, crying.

"We agreed not to tell her so that this wouldn't happen!" he nearly shouted. Christine clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Shh! You'll wake Joseph!" she scolded.

Raoul took a deep breath and gently pushed her hand away.

He said, "Maybe we're looking at it the wrong way. Perhaps she simply needed to get away for a while to come to terms with the truth."

Christine nodded.

Raoul continued. "We'll give her twenty-four hours. If she's not home by then, I'll send for the police and look for her. But for now, we'll pray she stays safe and wait."

...

Simone continued to push the gondola along the watery path, and finally, she saw a light in the distance. She smiled and eagerly pushed forward.

But as she went along, new thoughts penetrated her mind. _What if he doesn't like me? What if he doesn't care? What if he's dead? Would I be able to carry him up to bury him?_

Before she knew it, she was at a metal gate that separated the corridor from a large room. Dozens, hundreds of candles burned brightly in the room. An organ stood in the center, and four broken mirrors were lined up against a wall. But the greatest joy and greatest fear found Simone on her far right.

His back was to her. He was replacing a candle that had run its course with a new one, close to what looked like a young version of Christine. Which was very odd indeed. His puffy white shirt had a large tear in the back that looked even worse since he'd obviously tried to sew it back together.

Simone opened her mouth to acknowledge her presence, but no sound came out. It took several tries before she finally mustered up her courage and said, "Hello?"

He nearly tipped over the candelabra in surprise and even let out a yelp. He whipped around to face his intruder.

"Who are you?!" he yelled out.

His face. She could have been looking in a mirror, except for their difference in hair.

"S-Simone," she said. Her voice trembled with a mix of joy and fear.

He crossed the enormous room and picked up a… a… a noose?!

_"The Angel used a lasso to bring all the poor souls to Heaven…"_

He was going to kill her!

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NOW it should make more sense!


	5. You Little Lying Delilah!

First of all, thank you for the support and advice. I'll be following it closely and am grateful for the tips!

Also... I'll admit it. Raoul is kind of out of character in the first part of this chapter. To (sort of) explain, he does care about his "daughter" and was really worried about her, and when she insults him, he is actually hurt by it and blows his top. Bad excuse. I know.

* * *

Simone returned home at nine o' clock in the morning. She tried to be quiet coming in, but as she turned around, Christine and Raoul were standing in the hallway. Raoul looked angry. Christine looked relieved and angry.

"Simone!" she cried. "Where have you been?"

"I, uh, just went for a walk." Simone said lamely. She'd always been a horrible liar.

Raoul gripped her shoulders firmly.

"Simone. Tell us where you were. Now."

Simone stayed silent.

"Simone Antoinette de Chagny!" Raoul yelled, shaking her roughly.

"Raoul!" Christine said. "Stop!"

Simone glared at him. "You're not my father and I don't need to tell you anything!" she yelled, then spat at his feet.

That did it. The vein in Raoul's forehead bulged out, and he threw Simone to the floor. As she went down, her left arm jammed into a small end table. She shouted in pain.

"Raoul!!" Christine cried, and pulled him away.

Simone shakily got up, clutching her arm and eyes watering, and stormed up the stairs to her room, pausing only to slam the door and lock it.

Crying in pain and anger, she undid the ties of her dress and corset and pulled both off, leaving only her chemise, to see her arm. No blood had been spilled, but she was going to have an ugly bruise. Simone was furious. How could Raoul think he could demand things and hurt her like that, now that she knew they were not blood related?

There was a soft knock at the door. Christine calmly called for Simone to unlock the door. Simone was not angry at her mother, so she put on a robe and did as asked. Christine walked into the room, and they both sat on the bed. Christine pulled Simone close, stroking her curly brown hair, exactly the same shade and style as her own - though, in truth, Christine's was graying a bit.

"Simone," she said, "I agree with you. What Raoul just did was horrible, and I am going to have a word with him later. But, you do realize that you gave the both of us quite a fright this morning?"

Simone nodded, and respect for her mother caused her anger to come out of her body in a tear that rolled down her cheek.

"Simone… did you go to look for your father?"

Nod.

"Did you find him?"

Simone thought fast. Her answer needed to be partly true, otherwise, with her horrible lying skills, she'd be caught.

"Yes…" she said shakily. "I think so… but, it was so dark, and there was a… skull…"

Which was true. There had been an old skull next to a book of Shakespearean sonnets. But she didn't say that part out loud.

"I see." Christine said.

There was silence. Simone finally said, "Mother, could I be alone?"

Christine did not reply, but simply stood and left the room, shutting the door behind her. _Was that a tear that slipped down her cheek?_ Simone thought.

Immediately, she bounded to her desk and snatched a envelope and stationery out of a drawer. She had gotten an idea on the way home about how to get to her lessons.

Using a loopy cursive, she forged a note from the etiquette school downtown, saying she had been accepted to take classes and to start on Monday, three days from now. She sealed it in a baby-blue envelope (she despised that color and rarely used that particular stationery) and put it in the pile of mail from the slot immediately after the mail man came, so that Raoul would find it and let her go. It said in the note that Simone and her instructor would work out a schedule to learn.

As Raoul read the letter and told her of the "acceptance" Simone couldn't help but smile at her sudden cleverness.

* * *

R/R!!!! Tell me if you like Simone's idea!

BTW, sorry it's so short :(.


	6. Author's Note

Hi everyone – I just wanted to tell you that I'm going to be gone for 2 weeks at camp, so I won't be able to update till then. Just thought I'd explain that. Another thing, I'm really sorry about the whole "Down once more Actually Chapter 3" thing. I skipped a chapter while uploading and didn't know how to fix it without redoing the whole story. Sorry!

~Jackandjill


	7. Of love, Daroga!

Hey, I'm back! Had a great time at performing arts camp - I even got a small solo! Yippee!

Enough chat, let's get to the story - and there's something at the bottom from me too.

* * *

At Erik and Simone's secret lesson, it was decided that she would come to learn music at Erik's lair on Tuesdays, Thursday s, and every other Saturday. In order to keep her mother and Raoul from wondering if she was really attending, Simone would as Raoul to accompany her as far as Madame Colette's etiquette school. Simone would duck inside, wait for him to leave, then go back out and walk to the Opera house, going in using one of Erik's secret doors so no one would see her.

As she was leaving from the lesson, though, Erik had a question he'd forgotten to ask her.

"Simone?"

She had her back to him, and turned on her heel. But, unfortunately, she slipped in a small puddle of water and fell to t he floor on her bruised arm. Hard.

The pain burned her arm, and she felt wet. Too wet for that little puddle. She opened her eyes and realized the skin had broken, and the blood released from the bruise was gushing out of her arm. She screamed in horror.

Erik swore as he sprinted to a curtain and ripped off a generous amount of black linen. He ran back to Simone and tied the cloth around her arm tightly, suppressing the flow. Her entire face, not just the masked part, was white from terrified surprise, as were her hands, and her hazel eyes were wide with horror. She looked up at Erik.

"What was it you wanted to ask me?" she said weakly.

"It's not important. You should get home now." He said back.

Simone mildly glared at him. "Tell me."

Erik blinked, then said, "All right. I was wondering if you had heard of a man named Nadir Khan. He was a friend of mine."

Simone thought for a moment. "Nadir sounds distantly familiar, but I can't remember how."

Erik gingerly helped her up and added more cloth to her wound.

Simone's entire left arm was covered in drying blood. Great. How was she going to explain this to her mother and Raoul?

...

In fact, she didn't have to explain anything. Christine and Raoul had gone to a supper party at the LeDoux's and had left a temporary nanny to take care of Joseph until they came home. Both nanny and Joseph were asleep.

Simone crept up to her room, relieved herself of the reeking dress and the black linen, and donned her nightgown, retying some more fabric around her arm. She then wadded up the bloody dress and threw it in a pail of clean water, soaking it until most of the blood was gone. It wasn't nearly as gruesome now – she'd tell Christine that she'd cut her arm. Which, in retrospect, wasn't actually a lie.

Nadir Khan. Simone pondered it as she hung up the dress to dry. The first name just seemed slightly familiar – she'd heard it somewhere.

The memory finally hit her as she climbed into bed.

_"Did the Angel have any other friends besides Little Lotte, Mother?"  
__"Actually, darling, yes. The Angel had a close friend who could keep his secrets hidden while the Angel was away to heaven. A Persian man."  
__"What was his name?"__  
"Nadir. Now, go to sleep, love."_

Of course! The Persian man must have been real, too!

Simone heard her mother come up the stairs. She rose up and looked out her bedroom door. Christine was carrying a sleeping Joseph. She smiled at Simone.

As she came out of his room, she said, "Simone, you should get to sleep."

"Yes, but I wanted to ask you something."

"Ah." Christine said. "What would that be?"

"Well, I've been thinking a lot about your old stories, and I remembered once you told me of a Persian man named Nadir. Is he still alive?"

Christine raised an eyebrow. "I'm quite surprised you remember that. I'm nearly certain he is alive, yes. We ran into each other about five years ago, and Nadir told me he was residing in the boardinghouse near Leroux's bookshop. He may still be there, but I'm not sure."

"I'd like to meet him." Simone said wistfully. "Learn more about my father…"

"Perhaps." Christine said in that motherly way that really means, "Never." She then kissed Simone on the forehead and told her to go to bed.

Never, huh? Well, Simone would see to that.

...

She left early for her "etiquette" lesson with the excuse that it was a beautiful autumn day and she wanted to enjoy it. When she reached her destination, Leroux's bookshop, she found the boardinghouse and its owner, asking if Nadir Khan lived there.

"Oui, mademoiselle. Up the stairs, two doors down on the left." He said.

Simone thanked him and started up the stairs. When she found the door, Simone hesitated, but then knocked boldly on the door three times.

A dark-skinned man answered it. Simone shivered a bit at his contrasting black eyes and bright whites. They seemed to bore right through her skin and saw her very heart.

"Can I help you?" He said with a distinct eastern accent.

"Um, yes. Are you Nadir Khan?" As if it wasn't obvious.

"Yes. Who might you be?"

"Simone de Chagny."

"Ah," Khan said, smiling. "You are Christine's daughter." She noticed the absence of Raoul's name too.

"Yes."

Khan opened the door wider and gestured for her to come in. Simone shook her head and said "Thank you, but I was just on my way to see my father."

The Persian blinked wildly, stunned. "Erik lives? Here in Paris?"

Simone nodded and said, "I take music lessons from him – don't tell my mother – and he asked after you last I was there."

Khan's eyes turned warm. "I suppose you want me to go with you and see Erik?"

"If you like, monsieur."

Khan smiled wider. "As you wish, -"

He said something that must have been in his native language, because she didn't understand it at all. But before Simone could ask what he said, Khan snaked around her and started down the staircase.

* * *

Yeah, I read Leroux's book (did you catch my shout-out to him?), and the Persian was my favorite character after Erik himself. I was really bummed when he wasn't in the musical, so I put him in here. Hope you like it!

Reviews are much-loved... or I'll send Erik after you! PUN-JAB ATTACK!


	8. Now as I sing, I can sense him

Hey guys! here's the next chapter - and a new character to add a little romance to the plot. ;) P.S. There's something in a foreign language below that Nadir says. I hope it shows up...

* * *

Simone and Nadir started to walk to the Opera house, Nadir filling her in on Erik's mysterious past. Suddenly, Simone's stomach gave out an unladylike growl - she had skipped lunch so she would have time to find and talk with Khan. The said Persian smiled, and led her to a small bread bakery.

"If I may be so bold?" he said, holding open the door. Simone nodded gratefully and walked through. She didn't want another grumble at her lesson.

A handsome young man was kneading bread dough as they walked in. The smell of rising bread made Simone salivate, taking a deep breath. She head the crackling of wood burning as it baked the bread a warm golden-brown, and the pure quiet resounded in her ears, as compared to the busy Parisian street.

_More music,_ she thought happily.

The young man caught sight of Khan and Simone, and, dusting the flour from his hands, said, "What can I do for you, monsieur?" While he was addressing Nadir, he was, however, looking at Simone. She then realized she had forgotten to change her white mask to the itchy flesh-colored one.  
_No wonder Monsieur Khan knew so quickly who my father was!_ Simone thought, blanching.

Nadir tossed the baker five francs and said, "A small loaf for the lady, if you please."

The man smiled and gently took a loaf off a wooden platter near the stone oven. "Fresh out of the oven!" he said jovially.

He wrapped it up in a thin paper, but before giving it to Simone, he said, "I dearly hope you enjoy it, my lady. May I be so bold as to ask your name?"

His sweet smile made her heart race as she replied, "Simone de Chagny. Yours is…?"

"Pierre La Frenzo, Mademoiselle de Chagny."

He smiled again, making Simone blush just the slightest amount.

She thanked him, then went out of the bakery with Nadir and back on to the street. The bread was delicious.

...

Simone led Nadir to the lair, and when they reached the lake, Nadir politely insisted to guide the gondola. She gratefully let him.

She saw the lair, and smiling, called out, "Father!"

"Ah, Simone - right on time, as usual." Erik called back.

Simone quickly looked back and saw the joy on Nadir's face to hear his friend's voice.

"Father - I brought a surprise for you!"

"Oh?"

She saw the metal gate slide upward and felt the gondola rush forward a bit as Khan guided faster. They pulled into the lair, and Erik realized who was in the boat with Simone. A genuine smile crossed his face.

"Daroga!" he said joyfully.

When Simone and Nadir climbed onto the firm ground, Erik let out a short, happy laugh and he and Nadir shared a quick man-hug.

After a brief fill-in from Nadir, Erik turned to Simone. "Nadir, do you mind staying here?"

"Not at all. Sing, عالي معشوقه‌ !"

Erik, who understood Farsi, gave Nadir a puzzled look, then looked back at Simone. Before he turned to his organ, Erik smiled a bit, as if agreeing with the Persian about something.

Once she had warmed up her voice, Erik turned to her - no longer her father, but a devoted teacher.

"Now, Simone - what I've learned throughout the years is that a person sings better when they sing FOR something - or someone. Before I met your mother, I sang for the pure love of music and gratitude towards Madame Giry. Now, sing, and try to find who or what you sing for. _Lascia,_ from the top."

Simone racked her brain as she sang the beautiful, sad song., thinking of those who were closest to her. Christine - that sounded okay… Joseph - no, he's really annoying…

Raoul -

Her voice cracked horribly. Erik stopped playing.

"Sorry!" Simone said. "Um… Raoul."

Nadir snorted, trying to hold back laughter.

"It seems she inherited more from you than what meets the eye, Erik!" he said, laughing.

Erik smiled, incredibly proud of his daughter at that moment. He continued playing, and Simone continued to sing.

_Il duolo infranga_

_Queste ritorte,_

_De miei martiri_

_Sol per pieta…_

Her father. Erik. Wow, that sounded nice. Erik smiled again.

Who else…?

"_Pierre La Frenzo, Mademoiselle de Chagny."_

Simone let out a long, vibrating high note as the song ended. She didn't even KNOW how to use vibrato yet!

Simone had found her singer - her father and hope for love outside her family.

Erik turned back and praised her mildly for learning to visualization process so quickly. He know that he shouldn't give her too much admiration - Simone still had much to learn.

Nadir sensed that the lesson was over, and said, "Time for the both of us to return home - come, عالي معشوقه‌ ."

Simone nearly couldn't stand it. "Father, what is it he keeps calling me?"

Erik explained, "It is a Farsi phrase, that when translated, means 'beautiful girl'."

Simone was shocked. "I-I'm not beautiful! Not at all! Look at my face… I'm…"

Erik shook his head and placed his hands on Simone's shoulders comfortingly. "Simone. Nadir tends to see people as they ARE, not how they LOOK. You have a beautiful soul - you have Christine's innocence, and my… devotion. Yes. Anyway, you must now adopt one of Nadir's great assets."

"What?"

"Trust."

* * *

Erik and I will still wait for more reviews (Erik taps punjab lasso menacingly and smiles)...


	9. What a way to run a business

Hi everyone. Enjoy!

* * *

Simone, at dinner two nights later, finally found a flaw in her clever plan - though, in contrast to the upsides, it was in significant. She had set an elbow on the table absentmindedly and Raoul noticed. Simone, no elbows on the table. Don't you learn anything at that etiquette school you spend so much time at?" he both reprimanded and joked.

Simone nearly choked on her soup. She'd nearly forgotten her alibi to take music lessons from Erik, even though Raoul still walked her to the school. She hastily removed the elbow from the table and sat up straight as a board - not that it wasn't too hard in the corset she, like all other women, was forced to wear. (Another of the many reasons she loved the lessons - her father allowed her to loosen it a bit so she could breathe properly.)

Christine spoke up. "It's nearly the end of the month. When, and how much, are we supposed to pay Madame Colette?"

"Um…" Simone thought quickly. _Father should be paid something for his expertise, and if he doesn't want it, I'll give it to Monsieur Khan or some people on the street._

"One hundred fifty francs, at the first of the month. She mentioned it a few days ago, but I forgot. Sorry." she added apologetically - and convincingly. Christine nodded.

"Oh, I almost forgot something as well!" Raoul said. "We need to send Mathurine to the market tomorrow. She says we have no more bread." Mathurine was the cook at the de Chagny mansion.

Bread. The word put a smile on Simone's face as she remembered the fragrant, "musical" shop - and the young man who worked there.

Simone said, "May I go with her?"

"Why?" Raoul said suspiciously.

"Well - Madame Colette told the class of an excellent bread bakery during tea etiquette - we sampled some of its croissants. And," she added, "it is unseemly to keep such things to oneself."

Christine and Raoul gave her permission to go. Simone's heart started to beat a bit faster at the prospect of seeing the boy again.

So, the next day, Simone and the de Chagny's cook walked along the same street, looking for Messieur Bergoun's bread bakery. Mathurine was probably the smallest woman Simone knew. At 30, she was about the same height and weight as Simone.

"Are we about there, Mademoiselle? Me ankles are nee-are givin' out." Mathurine said in her Scottish lilt.

Simone finally caught sight of the tiny bakery. "It's just right there, Mathurine!" she said brightly, helping the cook along. She had incredibly weak ankles, already knotted with arthritis, and needed a bit of help to walk sometimes. The de Chagnys kept her hired only because of her excellent cooking (except baking - she wasn't so good at that) and the fact that Raoul and Christine didn't have it in their hearts to fire the woman, as she and her low-paid husband supported a large family.

They both walked into the bakery and Mathurine plopped into a chair. Simone looked around eagerly, and winced. She REALLY hated that flesh-painted mask - it irritated the already-mottled skin of her deformity.

A different man stepped from behind the oven. He looked a little like M. Bergoun, but was quite a bit older.

"What can I do for you?" he said.

"The young lady says yur bread is good - I'd like tuh sample some 'fore I buy anything." Mathurine said.

"Of course!" The man said. He began to cut a piece off a loaf, and Simone heard a short _ding! _The man looked around, muttered, "Pardon me!" to them, then turned around and said, "Pierre! Could you take out the bread?"

The boy walked into the shop from behind a door on the right. He opened the door to an oven, and took out the bread using a wooden platter. After he set it on a ceramic plate, he looked around the shop, and his eyes landed on Simone's face.

"Mademoiselle de Chagny?" he whispered.

Simone smiled. "Monsieur Bergoun."

"I take it you enjoyed the bread. Where is your Eastern friend?" Bergoun said.

"I did. And, Monsieur Khan is a family friend. He's working. " She looked at the older man, who was chatting with Mathurine. "Is that your father?"

"My uncle. Father's in court."

"Court?" Simone asked. "Why?"

"He's a lawyer - he works on the civil cases, such as 'M. So-and-so slipped and broke his arm in M. Someone's shop and so he should pay the bill.'"

"Oh, is your father THAT Monsieur Bergoun? Our, fathers, have worked together in court. Vicomte Raoul de Chagny?"

"Oh yes! I remember. I was in the audience during that case. I'm taking over the law business when my father retires - he's teaching me the law." he said happily.

Simone was happy too - no matter how small, she and Monsieur Bergoun had some sort of connection.

* * *

Reviews... or else keep your hand at the level of your eyes!


	10. A Dream and nothing more

Hi guys! Here's the new chapter... by the way, wasn't the new Harry Potter movie fantastic?! "Pincers..." LOL!

_

* * *

Simone found herself in a field filled with wildflowers and grasses, in the shade of a willow tree billowing in the light breeze. She was sitting on a blanket, and in front of her was a basket filled with bread, fruit, some cold beef, and a jug of water. She was obviously enjoying a picnic - but with whom? She looked up, and gasped with joy._

_Both her real parents - Erik and Christine - sat in front of her. Erik looked more carefree than she'd ever seen him before. His are was around Christine, holding her close. She had on the same look that she had when Raoul held her like that. Speaking of which, neither Raoul nor little Joseph were anywhere to be seen._

_Erik plucked a grape from the basket and offered it to Christine._

"_The grapes are delicious, love. Try them!" he said cheerfully._

_Christine nodded and opened her mouth. Erik placed the grape between her teeth._

"_Delicious!" she agreed, smiling._

_Simone's eyes stung with tears. Everything felt perfect. This could not possibly get any better._

_Erik looked up. "Ah, Nadir! How nice of you to join us!"_

_Simone looked behind her. Monsieur Khan was sitting… on a piano bench. Next to a grand piano. Strange that she didn't notice him (or the piano, for that matter) before._

_Khan held up his hands to the keys and struck up a lively tune, also smiling. Erik laughed (she could only imagine the sound) and, helping Christine to her feet, began to dance with her all around the meadow. Christine laughed along with him._

_Erik steered them towards where Simone was sitting, and let go of Christine in a twirl that made her fall onto the blanket, still laughing. Simone had never seen, or even imagined her parents so giddy. Erik grabbed Simone's hand, picked her too off the ground, and they too started to dance. Simone caught the bug and started to laugh as she and her father spun and spun and spun…_

_He twirled her, as he had Christine, but instead of falling over, Simone twirled…_

_Right into the arms of Monsieur Bergoun. From the bakery._

_She giggled as they also danced, Erik teamed up with Christine again, and Monsieur Bergoun stared at her. Not at her mask, as she was accustomed to, but right into her hazel brown eyes, the same shade as her father's. She didn't know exactly what color his eyes were, so she guessed blue._

_He suddenly stopped and paused. He put his hand up to her chin and tilted her head upward. Simone, knowing what was happening, closed her eyes…_

"Simone… Time to get up!" someone shouted at her.

Her eyes opened abruptly. She was not in a field at all… she was in her room. In bed…

_It was all a dream,_ she realized._ None of it was real._

Her dream had become a nightmare in a matter of seconds.

It was her mother that had woken her up. Simone's sight became blurry, and her eyes stung.

Christine stopped fussing with whatever-it-was, and looked at her daughter.

"Simone?" she said, stroking her face gently. "Are you all right?"

Simone wiped away the tears as she mumbled, "I'm fine… I just had a bad dream, that's all."

* * *

Sorry for the short chapter - it's mainly just a filler. There'll be a really special chapter next time!!!


	11. I have written you an Opera

Sorry I didn't get anything in last week. My family was on vacation in Chicago. Here's an extra-special chapter!!!

* * *

Erik sat by his organ, frustrated. He'd hardly written any music since Don Juan! He was supposed to be the Angel of Music, for crying out loud! Why was nothing coming to him?

It surely wasn't for lack of trying he'd come to this utter blank. For DAYS at a time he'd plunk out melodies, but nothing ever sounded right. It was like trying to work out a riddle of some sort.

He took a deep breath. He'd been working for three hours. Maybe all he needed was a break. Erik walked away from the organ and pondered on how there wasn't much at all to do when you were supposedly dead. You could write music, read borrowed newspapers, write music…remember things… write music…

Until Simone found him. Now he really had something to look forward to, something to live for. Before she'd came, he'd contemplated how to end his life. The lasso was had been his preference, naturally, but he had a sword too, or steal some lethal herb… but every time he'd attempted suicide, it seemed something – or someone – made him stop. Erik was now grateful for that.

He was still trying to imagine himself as a parent. A biological father! Him!

In a bizarre way, he was happy not to have been able to raise Simone. Erik had never really known parental love – look at his mother! Sold him to the gypsies for fifty francs, to put on their freak show. How could he have even known HOW to love Simone?

Simone… she had such a voice. Soprano, like Christine's but it hinted at something even more. An undercurrent of… whatever-it-was was just waiting to be found. He would work with her until it was found and she knew how to use it.

Erik smiled. He liked the sound of that.

Thinking of Simone jogged his memory. Notes played in his head… a melody… of course!

He ran back to the organ and picked up his pen.

The song was finished in two weeks. Erik wanted it to be perfect; this was as close as mankind could get to in this particular song. So at another lesson two weeks later, Erik presented the song to his daughter.

"'The Curse'?" she said.

"Two of my own memories inspired it. The first was of the last time I saw your mother – she told me that my face didn't bother her, but that my love for her had become distorted as well." He grimaced. It was never easy to talk about that day to anyone, including himself. "And the other was of you – when Nadir called you beautiful and you misunderstood his meaning. I wrote this song for you, Simone."

She beamed at him. Erik couldn't help but smile before he turned to the keys the play her song.

_We've heard the tale since we were young,  
Heard the songs that have been sung,  
About an evil spell._

Someone beautiful is cursed  
We feel sad through every verse  
Till a kiss and all is well

The message that no one can see  
Is clearer to someone like me

There is no curse or evil spell  
That's worse than one we give ourselves  
There is no sorcerer as cruel,  
As the proud, angry fool.

And yet, we cry" life isn't fair"  
Beneath our cries the truth is there

A power that will break the spell  
We should know very well  
Is locked within ourselves

Yet we'd rather blame,  
And curse our faith and change  
We run from everyone to hide from the pain  
And all the shame

The story's old, we knew it well  
About a wretched evil spell  
A power that will break this curse  
Oh I know all too well  
Is locked within myself

"Father… it's wonderful! Thank you!" Simone cried. Tears were glistening in her eyes. She embraced her father.

On the few occasions she did this, Erik would silently sigh and stand patiently until she pulled away, unable to overcome his cynicism. But, for the first time, some fatherly affection rose up, and he hugged Simone back. He even kissed the top of her head.

* * *

Awww!

Here's the link to hear the song on Youtube, just remove unnecessary spaces:

http:// www. youtube . com / watch?v = sXs6FMdMtmM


	12. Let me lead you from your solitude

Hey! Here's the next chapter, but first... how many of you really did go to Youtube and watch "The Curse"? There's about a bazillion more views than before I put the 'link'. Isn't that guy good?!

* * *

Autumn turned to winter. The holidays were fast approaching, but Simone didn't care much about Christmas. Now that she was sixteen, she was old enough to attend the annual Bal Masque with her mother and Raoul on New Year's Eve. The masquerade was held at a different place every year, so it hadn't really mattered that the Opera Populaire had nearly burned to a crisp - in that way, at least, it didn't. Furthermore, WHY a "stupid ball" was more important than CHRISTMAS was a great mystery to Joseph, and he told her as much.

"Oh, you wouldn't understand. There's music, and dancing, and…" Simone tried to explain, but she felt her brother was too young to understand. For once… to not be stared at for wearing a mask. To see hundreds of others like her for just one night! She couldn't wait.

…

Raoul didn't see the need to walk Simone to Madame Colette's etiquette place anymore, so Simone usually stopped by Nadir's or the bread bakery before her lesson. Sometimes Nadir came with her to chat with Erik. But she loved going to the bakery - more often than not, Monsieur Bergoun was finished with learning law for the day and would come to the bread shop to relax, so Simone got to know him quite well. Still, she could not stop the butterflies in her stomach whenever she saw him, and he somehow felt the same way too. Simone figured it was because she had not yet shown him her deformity.

It was a Thursday. Pierre (he'd asked her to call him by his Christian name, and she allowed him to call her Simone) was sitting in one of the chairs in the shop_. Odd,_ she thought. Usually he was helping his uncle with the baking.

"Simone!" he said happily. "I was hoping you'd come."

"_Bonjour,_ Pierre." she said. Her insides squirmed in delight at this welcoming.

"Simone, um, will you…" he trailed off. Pierre tried again.

"Mademoiselle, I want you to… no, that won't work…I mean-"

"Pierre, are you all right?" Simone asked. He was usually so articulate!

"WILGOBALMASSWIFME?" he nearly yelled.

There was a short silence.

"I beg your pardon?" What was wrong with him?

He took a deep breath, then repeated the question.

"Will you go to Bal Masque with me?"

Simone was stunned into silence. She'd _never_ expected anything like this - being _asked _to something, even a polite dance, with another boy. Especially not a _handsome_ one.

Like Pierre.

A tear escaped her eye, and the breath caught in her throat. She sat down.

"Simone? Are you all right?" he asked.

She looked up at him. Anyone could see the worry in his eyes - _Did I say it wrong?_

She smiled. Pierre had NO idea how important this was to her.

"Yes! I'll go to the masquerade with you!" she said, laughing.

Pierre's face lit up, brighter than the sun. Without any warning at all, he engulfed her in a hug. She was so surprised, she became stiff as a board, jaw dropped and eyes wide.

Pierre took her stiffness the wrong way. He thought she thought he was being too forward. Pierre froze too, the quickly pulled away, more austere than Simone's grandmother. She giggled, then remembered why she was out of the house at all.

"Oh dear - I've got to go!"

"What?" Pierre said.

"Sorry - thank you - good night!"

Then she dashed out. Simone didn't merely run to her lesson - she was skipping.

…

Erik definitely noticed the change in behavior. Simone floated in singing and Italian love ballad with a dreamy expression. She walked up to him, still singing.

"Sim - Oh!" Erik exclaimed.

She had taken his hand, laid her other hand on her father's shoulder, and was dancing with him all around the organ.

"Simone, what's going on?"

She changed the words -

"_Pierre Bergoun, Pierre Bergoun…"_

"Who?"

She stopped singing. "Pierre asked me to the masquerade ball, Father! Isn't it wonderful?" She sang again -

"_Wonderful,_

_He thinks I'm wonderful,_

_And I feel wonderful -"_

Erik could not believe it. A boy, this Pierre, had… found her attractive? Could he really see her the way he and Nadir saw her?

_Well, _he thought, _as long as she's happy._

But still, a fatherly instinct made him want to meet this boy…

A masquerade, was it?

He played along, dancing with Simone in her delirium, and a plan formed in his mind. A few minor adjustments to the Red Death and no one would recognize him. Maybe he'd even change his voice, an accent of some kind…

For the first time in sixteen years, he would leave his lair, and the Phantom of the Opera would be seen again.

* * *

Yikes!

Just as a warning: There's going to be just a few more chapters left :(


	13. Paper faces on parade

Didn't have time to write another chapter, but I did get a great idea. Thanks to NightmaraErik for pointing out the real drinking age, going to use that to my advantage! Instead of new chapter, re-read this one and I'll try to get one up next week - no promises, school starts tomorrow...

* * *

Christmas came and went, quite uneventfully in Simone's opinion, except when Christine finally took her shopping for the masquerade. Simone had no idea why, but her mother nearly fainted when Simone showed her the dress she wanted - a poofy, bright crimson one. It also had a cape that trailed on the floor, and a bright white mask.

"No." Christine said firmly. "No. Another dress."

Odd.

Finally, she and her mother agreed on one - a midnight blue gown that daringly flattered her curved waist and pale shoulders. Simone called her costume "Countess of the Moonlight."

At last, the night arrived. Bal Masque was held in a ballroom in one of the finest inns in Paris. Of course, people stared as Pierre kissed Simone's gloved hand in greeting and led her to the ball. She heard them whisper, wondering how the intelligent young man could have fallen in love with, as Simone heard them say, "That singer's and the Vicomte's reclusive daughter".

She had also heard rumors about Pierre, and after talking to his uncle privately, confirmed truth. Pierre was seventeen, and had started drinking alcohol last year, as is legal. But unfortunately, he liked the stuff a little (or a lot) too much. His parents had forbade him to have another sip until they thought he was mature enough. He had grown up since then, and had re-granted their permission. Simone, though she was sixteen, knew enough about alcohol that she dared not drink tonight- she wanted to remember every moment.

Anyway, one woman stood out from the rest of the crowd. She had the most garish dark pink dress that both of them had ever seen! Ruffles and bows and cream-colored lace and furbelows galore adorned every inch of the dress. Her graying red hair was done up so that it stood two feet above her head, more bows and lace holding it up somehow. Pierre snorted, trying not to laugh out loud.

"Who is that woman?" Simone said incredulously.

"I'm pretty sure that is the widowed Sigora Carlotta Guidicelli. She tried to sue the opera house when her husband was killed."

"Even when it had nearly burned to the ground?"

"Even so."

A few hours later, Pierre and Simone where dancing in the ball room. Simone had, grudgingly and only due to social matters, danced with Raoul, and Pierre with his mother and older sister (She was glad that Joseph was only eight years old).

Almost to the end of that particular song, however, someone horribly familiar caught her eye and started to walk towards him.

No blond, curly wig or even a full face mask could hide the hazel eyes. Nor could a fake Swedish accent fool her.

"'Ello, Simone! Ooh might this boy be?" he said.

Astonished, but using her inherited acting skills, she replied, "I didn't expect you to be here! (Isn't that the truth? She thought) Pierre, this is my Uncle - Peter. He came from Sweden for the holidays. Uncle, this is my, umm…" not quite a friend anymore…

Pierre sensed her discomfort, and stepped in. "Beau. My name is Pierre Bergoun." he said, shaking Erik's hand.

Beau!

Before she could think any more on the subject, Erik bowed, held out his hand theatrically, and said, "May I heve this dance?"

She smiled and nodded, then quickly said to Pierre, "I'll dance with my uncle and be right back."

As they were on the dance floor, Simone whispered angrily, "What are you doing here?! What if someone recognizes you?"

He quietly laughed and dropped the accent. "Who would recognize me in this thing?", looking up at the fake blonde curls on top of his head.

"But your eyes are still the same. What about my mother, Raoul, Signora Guidicelli -"

"The Prima Donna will never see me. I've done what I came here to do, and will leave after this song is over."

"You have?" she said worriedly. Simone looked around frantically all over the ballroom, and quickly saw Christine, standing right next to Raoul, laughing.

"What did you come to do?"

"I simply needed to get a proper look at the Pierre boy-"

He winced in pain as Simone clumsily stepped on his foot.

"WHAT?" she hissed. "All this trouble simply to see-"

"Well," he said, smiling" I would like to see Christine, make sure she is health-"

He winced again as Simone deliberately stepped on his foot.

"No! You'll go back to the cellars and get yourself out of this danger! And stay away from my mother!"

Erik glared at her. "The last time I checked, _I _was the father and _you_ the daughter."

Simone tried a different tactic. "Please? I just want to know you'll be safe, and think of what Raoul would do if he recognized you, and my mother will kill me if she finds out I lied to her about you…"

Erik know he hand been defeated. When Simone used this pleading tone, she reminded him so much of Christine, and couldn't really say no.

"Fine… what is Pierre doing?"

She looked over. He was filling a small glass goblet with champagne.

"His mother and father gave him permission to drink." she explained. "He is seventeen years old now."

Erik tutted critically. "I don't think it's ever a good sign to drink before one is eighteen. You be careful with him."

"I will." she said, not really taking in his words.

After the dance, Erik said a quick good-bye to Pierre and Simone, then dashed away, but not back to the lair. The fireworks would be starting soon, and he also wanted to keep an eye on the couple unseen.

Sure enough a quarter of an hour later, everyone rushed outside to watch the fireworks that signified the start of a new year. Erik quickly located the two of them and watched them.

Meanwhile, Pierre and Simone held hands, and finally the fireworks went off. The crowd ooh'ed and ahh'ed, and there was much pointing.

_**(AN: Gets very cheesy here, but there's really no other way I want to do this bit.)**_

Simone gazed up into the sky. She had never seen anything like this. Everything that happened was a new experience for her.

"Aren't they beautiful?" she said, looking at the explosions.

"Yes, you are." Pierre said wistfully.

She froze, then looked at him, smiling. She actually did look good tonight, considering everyone else was wearing masks.

Pierre stroked her jaw line, since her whole face from the nose up was covered. What he did next was utterly bewildering to Simone:

_He kissed her._

Pierre leaned down and_ kissed her!_

Simone gasped, but slowly closed her eyes and leaned in to him.

He pulled away a bit later, but he still held her close. She felt a tear go down her mask, then tasted it on her lips. His kiss still seemed to linger there.

And Erik saw it all.

He knew about his little affair with alcohol the year before, and wondered exactly how much champagne was influencing the boy. He knew that he really must keep an eye on him.

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REVIEWS!!!!!! Again, thanks NightmaraErik!!!


	14. My God, Who is this Man?

Hey... I know! I know it's been way too long since my last update! I've had writer's block and a busy schedule - all-state chorus, fall play, oral interp, marching band, Vocal group, praise band, my mom got sick... and yes, this isn't a very action-y chapter, but next chapter is the climax!!!!

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In the weeks following the masquerade, Simone noticed horribly drastic changes in Pierre. His uncle had definitely not been lying about the alcohol incident. She hardly recognized him anymore.

One particularly hard afternoon, Pierre tried to snatch the mask off her face. She'd nearly slapped him when she saw those glazed eyes, but managed to run out the door.

She needed advice, quickly. But she couldn't go to her mother or Raoul; they'd forbid her from seeing him again, thus obliterating any chance of her help. She could not go to her father; with his temper, she shuddered to think what he'd do to Pierre.

Simone needed an impartial judge. Someone who was able to see a person's character through any eye…

"Monsieur Khan?"

Simone had come back to the boarding house. She knew Nadir would help her. Simone heard a click and a short squeak as the door opened.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle!" he said nonchalantly. "How are you today."

"I'm fine, thank you. But I need your advice. There is no one else I can go to."

"All right then, come in!" Nadir opened the door wider.

Simone liked Nadir's house - it was full of strange scents and sights. She especially liked the carpets and a worn tapestry on the wall. But her favorite part was that she could visit him alone without the threat of… well, you know.

They both sat down at the table, and she explained the situation, starting with what Pierre's uncle had told her, then about the ball, and finished with what happened just about a half hour ago.

Nadir thought for a while, with his hands folded, elbows rested on his knees.

"I strongly advise against seeing this boy, Simone. Any person who allows themselves to lose their very person to anything not just once, but again and again, is not worthy of a عالي معشوقه‌ like yourself."

She began to protest. "Nadir, he needs my hel-"

He held up a hand to stop her. "No, Simone. Forgive me, I must be forward with you. Stop seeing Pierre. Next time, it may not be only your mask that he tries to force off you."

She shuddered and tried not to imagine what he meant. "You're right. Thank you, Nadir."

He nodded solemnly, then looked at a clock. "Mademoiselle, aren't you late for your lesson?"

She shook her head. "No. My father had a slight cold at our last lesson, and asked me not to come today. It does get so cold down there, I had to wear my cloak last time."

"Yes… you'd better get home, the sky does not look well. Stay safe and warm." he said.

Simone thanked him again and left.

Nadir sighed as she went. He looked out the window and grimaced, shutting the curtains. He really hated snow.

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Have faith in me, guys - reviews!


	15. Your hand at the level of your eyes!

Hey guys! This is one of my favorite chapters to write. I rarely get so into it...

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Simone did follow Nadir's advice. She hadn't seen hide nor tail of Pierre in two weeks, though she did hear whispered comments from fluffed-up ladies about him having a "comeback", as they put it. She didn't want to know, so she didn't pay much attention.

Erik's cold passed, and Simone continued her lessons. She wondered if he knew her seventeenth birthday was in a month and a half.

At one particular lesson, time seemed to go much faster than usual. By the time Erik thought to check, the moon was far into the sky. Erik cursed under his breath.

"Simone, you need to get home! Christine will be very worried!" he exclaimed, taking the music from her hands and pushing her towards the gondola. She pushed herself into the river as fast as she could - which was quite faster than most ladies could, considering the strength she had been gaining from this exercise.

Erik looked again at the moon. A grate opened up on the side of the street above that he used to see the sun and moon, telling time. Erik was a little worried himself. He knew all too well what often happed to women who walked alone at night…

_Just this once, to make sure she's okay, will be sufficient,_ he thought, quickly dusting off his cloak and grabbing the lasso - just in case. He climbed up the grate opening using footholds he'd installed years ago. More than once, an aggravated spider crawled up his leg and he needed to shake it off. Erik got out of the opera house about the same time Simone did. She didn't notice him hiding in the shadows. He planned to follow her home.

Simone walked along the now-barren streets of Paris. She came upon a group of men outside an alehouse, and crossed the street in hopes that they wouldn't notice her. Unfortunately, that didn't work so well. The men saw her across the street, and, not seeing her mask, wolf-whistled at her. She ignored them, but walked a little faster. They all got up and stalked her for quite a while. She noticed this, and turned around to tell them to go away.

Erik's insides twisted, and he gripped the Punjab tighter. _Oh no…_

The men gathered around. In their drunkenness, they didn't even notice her white mask. Simone balled up her fists, but was secretly terrified.

"Now, gentlemen, I would appreciate it if you left me alone." she said firmly.

"Yes, but there's certainly a few things we'd _appreciate _as well!" the man in front called out much too loudly. The others laughed. A hand shot out of nowhere and pinned her to the wall. Simone flailed her arms around. Erik ran full-speed towards her.

Simone stopped as she saw a familiar face.

"Pierre! Pierre, HELP ME, don't just stand there like an idiot… PLEASE!" she cried. Erik stopped. Maybe there was a chance he didn't need to reveal himself…

Pierre cocked his head sideways. The voice of the man holding her spoke up.

"Well, Bergoun, if she's yours, than, by all means…!" He flung her into Pierre. He gripped Simone's arms much too tightly and smashed his mouth against hers, but not before flinging the mask from her face. He didn't even see the deformity.

Simone's mind was only able to process two things:

One, she saw her father, choking the men with his lasso so fast that blood spurted from their necks; he was basically beheading them.

Two, she HAD to get Pierre off of her. Only one way seemed right.

Her hands clutched his throat tight, tighter, even tighter… he gasped for breath, but could not get any. His face turned blue… purple… white…

Erik saw this, and forcefully pulled her off Pierre, leaving the rest of the men to run away. They wouldn't remember tonight anyway. He kicked Pierre in the kidney.

"SIMONE! You are not a murderess. You are not me!" he yelled as she fought his dominant embrace. Her Christine side finally caught up with her - she fainted. Erik caught her and held her in his arms. He started to walk away, but saw a small motion in the corner of his eye.

It was Pierre, trying to get up. Pierre, the handsome, wealthy boy, who not only had tried to rape his daughter, but reminded Erik of another certain fop who'd wooed away a girl he'd loved…

Erik walked over and kicked the boy again, making him stay on the ground. Simone had had the right idea… Erik spat at Pierre, and stomped on his head.

A single gasp left his mouth. Blood poured out of his smashed skull, with a single indentation mark in the shape of Erik's foot.

Erik took the lasso from the ground with a limp Simone cradled in one arm, and examined it. Blood from unknown men covered the inside of the loop. Erik looked up and saw a garbage fire in the direction of where he knew the de Chagny residence was.

He dropped the lasso, one of the last reminders of his horrid past, into the fire as he passed by. After tonight, he would never kill again. Simone truly had changed him.

He felt relived, but that feeling soon vanished after he realized what he needed to do.

Bring Simone home.

_This will be awkward…_ he thought nervously.

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Remember at chapter one, when I told you that the idea for this whole thing came to me in a dream? Well, this chapter was the dream. A bunch of bad guys trying to hurt me, and Erik randomly coming out of the shadows to save my life!

Also... I'm not entirely certain about the whole Pierre-dying thing. Review and tell me what you think, he doesn't come into the story anymore and I wanted something bad to happen to him...

Reviews would be lovely!


	16. We've Passed the Point of No Return

Wow... last chapter. I had this huge bout of inspiration and finished 3 stories last night!!!! Thank you, God!!  
Note at the bottom. For now, enjoy this final chapter.

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Thank God, it was Raoul and not Christine who answered the door. What a sight to see - a limp Simone in the arms of, not only a presumably dead man, but a presumably dead man who'd more that once tried to kill him…

Awkward…

One Christine got over the shock, she, a few maids, and Mathurine (remember her?) attended to Simone in her bedroom… leaving behind Erik, Raoul, and little Joseph alone in the sitting room. Almost eight tension-filled minutes passed without a single word exchanged, until Raoul finally couldn't take it anymore and got up to take Joseph to bed. As he rushed from the room, extremely annoyed and embarrassed, Erik tried to, but failed a suppressing a snort.

At the same moment, Christine came in.

"Erik - Simone will be fine-" she added when he opened his mouth to ask "- but I think we need to talk. Alone."

So they both went upstairs to Simone's bedroom and Christine shut the door behind her. Simone was lying on the bed, still unconscious, with a cool, damp towel on her forehead. Erik took a seat at Simone's small table, and Christine say on the edge of the bed.

"How long have you known her?" Christine said, a little fearfully. In other words, how long had she not known about this?

"Nearly seven months. She found me, and we see each other regularly. I give her singing lessons…"

Christine's eyes widened as Erik finally told her the whole story - Simone finding him, and later Nadir; how she and Pierre really met; he sang a bit of the song he'd written for her; Simone's reaction to Pierre's invitation; her first kiss; down to what had happened just a few hours ago. At this part, Christine's eyes now filled with tears and she held Simone in her arms. Why hadn't she been there? She could've helped her only daughter, her oldest child…

Erik sat silent for a few minutes, then spoke up again, even quieter than before.

"There's one more thing, Christine… in three months, a ship is leaving France to go somewhere far away. I plan to go along, and I was going to ask Simone if she wanted to go with me. This place is perfect for us - no one will know who I am, what I have done; I have even invented a new mask made from rubber that no one will be able to notice when painted correctly! And Simone, she can sing professionally with no one knowing the history of her parents - biological or otherwise!"

Christine made him be silent. She was almost afraid of the answer to her next question:

"Where is it?"

"…America."

Christine clasped a hand to her mouth. So far away!

"Erik, she's only sixteen -"

"Seventeen in a few short months. She is of legal age, and should be able to make her own decisions…"

Simone groaned and her head stirred. Erik rushed to hers' and Christine's side.

Her eyes fluttered open. At first, she thought she was dreaming again. It was so much like her last dream… both her parents were in her bedroom, clearly worried about her…

"Mother?" she said softly. "Father?"

"Shh," Erik said kindly. Christine stroked her hair gently. "Don't get up too quickly." he added as Simone sat up.

"Oh… did I really do that?" she said, shaky and wide-eyed. "Did I really try to… kill him?"

Erik said nothing, but took her in his arms and pressed her head to his shoulder.

Simone was disgusted with herself! She vowed in her mind that it would never happen again. She couldn't let it.

"We're just glad you're not hurt." Christine said, holding Simone's hand.

There they say, for quite a while, not sure what else to say. Erik quietly told Christine he wanted to speak to Simone privately. Christine nodded, and with a gentle kiss on her daughter's forehead, left the room.

"Simone," he began, "I have a proposition for you…"

He continued to tell her all he had Christine, and more. She listened with great care to all he said, asking a question now and then, until he ended. There was another long silence as Simone considered his offer. Across an entire ocean… she'd never even left France! But still, to be able to sing… that was all she wanted. To sing and be safe, and be loved. She somehow knew her father was right. She had only one more question:

"So, in three months, right?"

...

Those three months went by in a daze. She packed, and finally convinced Raoul and her mother that she was doing the right thing. And, of course, the hardest thing of all… saying good-bye to Nadir. She and Erik went together and explained. There were a few tears, and he promised to see them off with Christine and Raoul, but declined their offer to have him go with them. Europe was his home, and even France was almost too far away from his homeland.

And so came the momentous day. People were rushing to and fro, and Simone, Erik, Christine, Raoul, Nadir, and little Joseph (who didn't really know what was going on, being so young) all stood together.

Raoul cleared his throat stiffly and turned to Erik, taking him aside a couple of steps for a moment. "Well, I, um… take care of her. See that she becomes a success."

"I will." they shook hands.

Christine held Simone close, and only let go for a moment, when Nadir presented her with two gifts: a small, hand-carved ivory elephant, and a last piece of advice: "Never underestimate yourself, عالي معشوقه . Follow your dreams, or your life may seem a nightmare."

His advice to Erik?

"Sometimes, my friend, you need to do what does not seem best or most logical. Do not hide yourself away again. Good luck!"

They all heard a man call out that the passengers needed to get on board. Quick hugs and kisses ensued, and Erik and Simone rushed off. They only looked back once, for a last goodbye.

They didn't know what would happen in the future. Erik didn't know he would, soon enough, become a well-known architect for some of America's first opera houses and theatres, or that, while he would never meet the right woman to marry, he would never again hide himself away in the dark.

Simone didn't know she would indeed become an acclaimed opera singer, raved about by word of mouth, and even some early newspapers. And she certainly didn't know that, in another ship coming to America from Italy, was a young man named Antonio Cesti, or that they would meet in the opera, fall in love, marry on a crisp April morning, and have a child to be named Tosca, after the production they both starred in on their meeting, and that Tosca would not have Simone's deformity, for Christine's early prediction had been right: the gene was only dominant in the male line. Not that they knew what genes were.

Anyway, they did not know these things, and yet, the future seemed bright.

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Thank you for staying with me through this. I've learned a lot... how to deal with haters, improving my grammar, and definately to persevere. You guys are awesome, and deserve boxes and boxes of cookies!!!!

Which I don't have. sigh...

Anyway, thanks! PEACE OUT! Remember to review!!!


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